LIFE IS A BED OF ROSES.

I have been extremely elated over the past few days which has had me quite relaxed to say the least, and for obvious reasons. First and foremost is the conclusion of the GE 8/8/17, a mere democratic process that had turned my life inside out, taken me up and down, and most notably left me with saggier pairs of trousers. The campaigns had been quite demanding, in all thinkable aspects, and I was more than happy when I woke up on the D-Day. Voting went on just fine, but the results weren’t so appealing. I mean, I had given it my all over a 6 months period. The first rally, the MCCP nomination, the debate, all these memories that still linger in me surely deserved a more exquisite reward! I was dejected. It was hard to cope with the loss especially for a first-timer like myself. Politics had brutalized me at my first time of trying, and if I was to sarhah the 25^th January 2017 me (the day of my manifesto launch), I’d probably jab some bare knuckles to my face and reconsider my political ambitions.

Being quite the prayerful one, I knelt throughout the campaign period. When I prayed, I did not petition for my wishes to be granted, I asked only for wisdom, and for His will to be done. It was this prayer that would make me dust my sack-cloth and give glory for what I had achieved. The entire candidacy had honestly surprised even me! I felt that I had gained more value in family and friends, in passion and trust, in happiness and in faith, pain and loss, and in foes and fakes. I had been the change that I believed in, while my peers were warring on their keyboards, I was out there engaging the status quo in its own arena. There’s pride in that, I know for a fact through experience. I was no longer that 25^th January me that was merely part of the scrap. I had been annealed, structured and composed. I would do it all over again and still enjoy every bit of it. I live to fight another day, more chiseled and wiser than before, and whether that will be as soon as the year of our Lord 2022, is a probability that I leave safe in the mercies of my God and His will.

I am a politician, you should know. Politicians have affiliations, political affiliations of course. We politicians are exactly not enemies. We have and harbour close relationships that are paradoxically invisible behind those glaring cameras at the press conferences. We have meet-ups, that are not ideally out of convenience but more situational. By virtue of one being a political candidate, he/she is presented the certainty to meet and maybe interact with opponents and other candidates. A typical situation is the early morning IEBC meetings that were of ‘purpose to attend in person’. Opponents would also meet at public events and would offer pleasantries, and often designated to seat in common spaces. So, ideally we are not enemies like most Kenyans would think. The unfolding at the podiums might have been more like the ‘T-Mobile Arena’ in Nevada, USA, where words and below the belt punches would largely contradict what we expect of pugilists like Flloyd Mayweather and Conor McGregor, but behind that we all nurture this weird relationship of interdependence and concern. So we are friends. Therefore, I do believe that when Kenyans choose to fight among themselves, they do it on their own vocation and has little to do with our politicians’ interaction mannerisms. Universal suffrage is quite consequential a process, but respect for human life and space eclipses its tenacity. Humanity should always overshadow our opinion and ethnical attachments. Every Kenyan had an equal right to participate in a democratic process that would ultimately conclude to a loser, and a winner.

Now, back to what I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph, politicians have affiliations, same as sharks have fins.

During my campaigns, I focused on selling my agenda to the great people of Olkeri. I campaigned on a transformative and youthful agendum. I interacted with close to 4,500 voters making almost 900 stops while at it. I’d implore them to vote me in, and more so to vote for the Jubilee presidential candidate and his deputy, as well the party’s nominated Governor, Senator, Member of Parliament and the Women’s Rep. I’d persuade them to go for ‘suti lakini kiatu muweke Maendeleo Chap Chap’. That was my affiliation, for reasons that are known to me, tribal cocooning notably not being a part. I merely exercised my right to freedom of conscience, religion, belief and opinion. I was also keen to preach peace and tranquility, and the gospel of remaining united in the aftermath of the election. Politics comes and goes in eventful cycles of 5 years.

Tano Tena was a reason for me to celebrate, and I did. I recall Friday night when Uhuru Kenyatta was officially declared president, and these good news had spurred the final breath of life in me.  Having taken my time off the entire political debacle, I had retracted to a chillspot and taken time to digest my debut in the political leagues. So when one Wafula Chebukati announced what Kenyans had been waiting for, the people around me were cast into frenzy. In the midst of it all, I received a call from one of my political competitors’ supporters. This is how it went down:

“Halo Mheshimiwa? Sisi huku ni kufurahia tu. Tulikushinda na sasa tumeshinda mpaka ile kubwa!” He then proceeded to unleash one of the most annoying guffaws I had heard in quite a while. So I took time to compose myself before answering…

“Niaje Choppa? (Name has been altered to protect the identity of the cellular assailant) Naona uko na furaha umekula bet zote?”

“Eeh, na si nilikuambia mimi napelekaga watu nyumbani?!” Then that guffaw again…

I wasn’t mad. Not really. I had let everything sink inside me, so it really wasn’t about the taunting that enraged me. No. It was the mentality behind it that was worrying to an extent of making me feel mad. Feel mad. Not get mad. I suppose there’s a thin difference. So I took it up with him, and made him realise that it was not about losing or winning for him and many other Kenyans. I lost. My rival won. Just like the incumbent head state had won and the opposition leader had unfortunately lost. But for everyone else, the hoi polloi, it really is never about losing or winning. It is about making your bed and lying on it. In the process it becomes the same bed that I have to lie on, all of us, same bed. So if we are going to be sleeping with a dog then we should be ready to wake up with fleas, and if we are sleeping on a bed of roses, then we must all be expectant of a most beautiful sleep.

Life is a bed of roses. We only choose to make it hard ourselves. A bed of roses would be somewhat a beautiful thing, or at least it should. So would you rather sleep on your bed of roses or tend to its beauty all day and night? I say this day, as I have said before, that life is in fact a bed of roses that is under a duty of care from its subscribers, that whosoever wishes to neglect his/her duties will ultimately detriment its allure. While you enjoy every bit of it, be careful to ensure that you water and tend to its magnificence. Yet, it is the little bits that matter, so believe in yourself as much as you can, make peace with people and your pasts, make as many souls as you may happy each day, love and love hard, be reverent to your Deity and your faith,  and when you fall pick yourself up and start moving already.